Luxuries
by doopdoop2
Summary: [Post-Timeskip] - Shortly after his return, Dedue sees Dimitri has not been taking proper care of himself, and tries to change that.


People were ignorant.

They would talk about Dimitri with such surprise and frustration. They would say things like, "It's as if he's a completely different person!" or "He's nothing like he used to be!"

But Dedue knew they were wrong. He felt a strange satisfaction in knowing so; it meant he understood something about Dimitri they did not, that he knew Dimitri better than the well-meaning fools who'd referred to him as their friend, years ago.

Dimitri now was Dimitri then. They were the same person. Of course, they way he talked was different; he looked different, moved different, fought different. But he was the same person he'd been years ago back in school. This was his core, in its barest, rawest form - the part of himself he'd struggled to hide for years and years. He'd acted a certain way to keep others from guessing, but Dedue had always understood, because it was the very first side of Dimitri he'd ever known, and he had never forgotten it.

"You were dead," Dimitri said, for the thousandth time. Dedue had been back three days now, but Dimitri could not seem to make himself believe it. "You were dead. I heard your voice, crying out in the darkness. I could not sleep because your calling kept me awake."

"I did not die," Dedue said. "You see, your highness, I am still alive, just as surely as you are."

Dimitri laughed harshly and shook his head. "My body lives on, but my heart, my spirit, they died long ago."

It was clearly untrue, but Dedue did not blame Dimitri for saying it. To have the innermost part of you dragged to the surface after hiding it for years and years - that was no doubt startling. Perhaps Dimitri had tricked himself into thinking that facade he'd worn was his true face, or perhaps he knew very well he was telling untruths now. Maybe he was speaking in metaphors, and Dedue was not poetic enough to understand. It was no matter.

"Your heart and spirit are the same as ever," Dedue said. "Your body, however, looks somewhat different than when I saw you last. A bit worse for wear, if I may say so."

"Do not mock me!" Dimitri said, his voice echoing in the large, empty hall. "That you call me the _same as ever-"_

"You have not been taking care of yourself, have you?"

"What use is it? I am now merely a weapon. An arrow loosed from a string does not need to _take care of itself." _He spoke the last phrase in a mocking tone of voice, his lip curling into a sneer.

Dedue would not take the bait. Dimitri could mock him forever, could call him the worst insults he could think of, but Dedue would not hesitate to offer what help he could. "You are no arrow. You are no weapon. You may wield them, but you, yourself, you are a person, your highness. And people need different care than weapons do, if you may excuse me from stating the obvious."

"You bore me, Dedue. Get to the point."

"I believe you know it," Dedue said. "The others may fear your temper, but I do not. It pains me to see you refuse to take care of yourself. I will do what I can to change that."

"And what do you propose?" Dimitri said. Dedue could tell by the way his voice got louder that he was finally taking Dedue seriously. At last he seemed to understand that Dedue meant business. "To _bathe _me?"

"Yes, your highness," Dedue said. His tone was purposely flat; he took care not to reveal the trepidation he was feeling. If it came down to it, he could not actually force Dimitri to do anything he did not want to do. He could coax and plead all he wanted, but it wasn't as if he could bodily throw His Highness into a tub, no matter how much he wanted to.

"To bathe me," Dimitri said again, his face scrunching up into an almost comical expression of disgust. "Tell me what purpose that serves me. Why I should care about things like that when we are in the middle of a war, when the dead are piling up, calling out every night for revenge? Tell me what purpose a _bath _could serve in times like these, Dedue?"

"It is true a bath will not help you get revenge. But-"

"Then it is not something I care about. I only eat and drink and sleep because I will die without doing so. I have stripped my life bare of everything I do not need. Only when I have attained my goal can I even consider changing my ways."

"Speaking will not help you get revenge," Dedue said. "Yet you continue to speak."

"Dedue, are you - are you trying to silence me?" Dimitri's surprise seemed genuine. Dedue had to hold back a small smile - it was a treat to see an emotion besides his usual heavy, dark anger.

"I am not," Dedue said. "However, I merely wish to point out that you already do unnecessary things. Doing so is unavoidable. It is part of human nature, in fact."

"That's very poetic of you to say."

The more he tried to cut Dedue with his words, the closer Dedue knew he was to winning. "I am not trying to be poetic," he said. "I merely wish for you to understand that you cannot banish all non-essential actions from your life. Unless you spend the entirety of your days fighting, eating, and sleeping, you will always be doing things you do not need to do."

"And therefore I should take a bath?"

"It is as good as any other activity. As good as standing around," Dedue said. "Perhaps to see their commander taking care of himself would boost morale for the rest of the army."

"If they cannot rally behind me in this state, I hardly think a bath would make much of a difference. Dedue, you are being ridiculous."

"Don't you think it would feel nice?"

Dimitri looked at him sharply. "Feel nice?"

"How long has it been?" Dedue said, now having to hide his excitement - he knew he was close, knew Dimitri's blatant surprise meant Dedue had the upper edge. "How long since you last took a bath? Months, years? Do not fear attack - I will keep guard. You may take your time. Our scouts will give ample warning of an attack, besides."

"I cannot even say when I last bathed," Dimitri said. "It does not matter, but-"

"But it would harm no one to do so. I will draw the water for the bath myself. You will waste no one's time. If you do not wish to put in any effort, you may even just sit in the tub and I will take care of the actual cleaning."

"You would-" Dimitri looked at him, and Dedue could not parse the look on his face. He took a deep breath. "I cannot afford myself any luxuries."

"Then why do you sleep on a mattress instead of the floor, and eat the food we prepare instead of leftovers and scraps?" Dedue said. "I do not want you to give up these things, of course. I'm simply pointing out that luxuries are not all bad."

"I do not deserve-"

"Your highness, it harms no one."

Dimitri looked at him for a long time. Dedue held his gaze, that single pale eye seeming to look right through him. Then he blinked, the spell was broken, and he lowered his gaze. "Keep it a secret from the others."

"They will be able to tell, I am sure," Dedue said. "Simply from observing-"

"No. I mean, that you were the one - that you-"

"Of course," Dedue said. "I would not dream of it."

* * *

He did not know what temperature Dimitri preferred his bathwater these days - probably Dimitri himself did not know either - so Dedue ran the water warm, not quite hot. A pleasant temperature, in Dedue's mind at least.

He watched as Dimitri stripped. The prince was gentle with his armor, setting it on the floor so softly it made no sound. But Dedue wondered if he did any regular upkeep on it; it had blood between the joints, blood where the plates overlapped.

The clothes underneath it were threadbare, worn to shreds. Those, Dimitri took no care with; he tossed the scraps into a pile and kicked them to the side. Dedue wondered whether he could discreetly burn everything and replace them with some fresher clothing, and whether he had time to clean the armor as well - at least a quick rub-down…

"Well?" Dimitri said. He stood naked before Dedue, pale as death, covered in scars and calluses. "Get on with it."

"Get in the tub, then," Dedue said. Knowing the floor might be slippery, he offered Dimitri his arm, and to his surprise it was taken; he guided the prince into the tub, and Dimitri sat down, his legs folded up to his chest.

"Is the temperature alright?"

"It is of no consequence."

Of course. What a silly question; Dedue decided to hold himself back from asking any more. He had what he wanted - best not to annoy Dimitri too much and risk him running away.

But… what first?

Dedue knelt by the side of the tub. After a moment's thought, he stripped off his shirt, folded it and set it aside. "Give me your arm," he said.

Dimitri gave him such a haughty, scornful look at being ordered around, but he still complied, holding it out towards Dedue stiffly. Dedue wasted no time; he dampened a washcloth and began to scrub Dimitri's skin, beginning with his hand and working his way up, until he reached Dimitri's shoulder. He got the cloth wet again, wrung it out and kept going. He did not let himself linger on any of the scars or wounds he saw; he sacrificed gentleness for speed and thoroughness. He did not know how long Dimitri would tolerate this, and he wanted to make as much progress as possible before His Highness's mood shifted to something less accommodating.

He was halfway done with the second arm when Dimitri spoke up. "I do not recall you being so vicious, Dedue."

Dedue stopped, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am surprised. I recalled you being someone concerned with my comfort, but you are scraping me raw."

"I…" Did Dimitri actually care about his own comfort, in the end? "I apologize. I am trying to work quickly, that is all."

"Work quickly and carefully, if you need to bother me with this at all."

"I understand."

Dedue softened his touch, slowing the pace down as well. After finishing his arms, he cleaned Dimitri's legs the same way, one at a time, from foot to calf to thigh. Little by little, he could see Dimitri relaxing, settling into the bath. His eye closed slightly, and his breaths came slower and deeper.

It was the first time he'd seen Dimitri express anything close to pleasure in nearly five years.

In those days before the war, Dedue hadn't known how good he'd had it. Now, every moment he spent at Dimitri's side was precious. Nothing could be taken for granted - one never knew how quickly it might be snatched away again. But this… this was a treasure. It was almost too good to be true.

"You stopped."

Dedue blinked. "My apologies."

"Are you bored with this chore?"

"No," Dedue said quickly. "I apologize. My thoughts were elsewhere."

"What were you thinking of?"

"I was just thinking of how foolish I was before," Dedue said. "I did not treasure my time with you as I should have."

"So you intend to spend every waking minute with me now?"

"Is that different from how it was before?"

"No," Dimitri said - was that a smile, or at least the barest hint of one? "I suppose it isn't."

"Your highness," Dedue said abruptly, "may I wash your hair?"

"I hardly understand why it's so concerning to you," Dimitri said, after a pause. "But… fine."

Here it was - the largest request, the one Dedue was most afraid to propose. "It might be best if you remove your eyepatch, so it does not become waterlogged," he said, tone cautious, and steeled himself for Dimitri's reply. But to his shock Dimitri slid the eyepatch up and off without a word, and tossed it onto the floor.

The wound was not as bad as Dedue had been fearing. It looked old; it was fully healed. The eye was gone completely, as Dedue thought, but one could hardly tell. From a distance, it looked like it was simply closed.

"I'm sure it disgusts you," Dimitri said.

Dedue jumped, realizing too late that he'd been staring. "My apologies," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to make you self-conscious, your highness. But no, it does not disgust me. I merely wanted to inspect the wound to make sure it was no longer open."

"It healed years ago."

"That is good, then," Dedue said. "Let me lean you back, so I can get your hair wet."

"I hardly need help doing something so trivial," Dimitri said - yet he allowed Dedue to place a hand behind his head and guide him down, beneath the surface of the water and back up again into a sitting position.

Dedue moved quickly to wipe the sopping hair out of Dimitri's face, then poured shampoo onto one hand and began to lather his hair. Dimitri sat very still, and Dedue, now quite confident he was able to take his time, worked slowly. His fingers rubbed circles into Dimitri's scalp, beginning at his hairline and working his way back, dipping down to massage Dimitri's sideburns and behind his ears.

Dedue wished it could last forever. It was good, so good, to have Dimitri here - a tactile presence, warm and solid beneath his hands. In the days Dedue had been back he had not been able to touch Dimitri at all - and that Dimitri was liking it, or at least not vocally disliking it, was more than Dedue had dared to imagine.

"Now I will rinse it off. Let me lower you into the water again," Dedue said. "Close your eyes-"

"My eye," Dimitri corrected, sneering.

"Yes. Please close your eye, your highness."

Again, for all his bluster, Dimitri let it happen, let Dedue tip him backwards and hold him half under the water - nose and mouth above it, hair below - to rinse out the shampoo.

"Thank you, your highness," Dedue said, once Dimitri was back upright. "I… I suppose that is all I need to do."

"You only washed my arms and legs," Dimitri said. "You did not wash my body."

Dedue blinked, then shook his head. "I was not sure you would feel comfortable if I had."

"Let me tell you something truly foolish," Dimitri said. "Back at school, all those years ago, I would have _unbelievable _thoughts about you. You offered to bathe me once when I was sick, and from then on it was as if a fire was lit in me. I thought about if I had agreed, what it would have been like - I thought about you washing me all over. Washing my body. Touching me."

Dedue's mouth felt dry. "Your highness, why do you tell me this now?"

Dimitri laughed humorlessly. "They're foolish thoughts, aren't they? The thoughts of a sick child. You were always so good to me, so loyal, and yet I would pervert your loyalty in my head every night, and I hated myself for it."

"I would have done it," Dedue said, "if you had asked."

"I know!" Dimitri spat. "And that's the truly sick part, Dedue! You don't know how hard it was for me _not _to ask!"

"I…" Dedue looked down at himself. His arms were wet past the elbows, and his chest and stomach were flecked with droplets as well. He was growing cold, and he wondered if Dimitri was feeling the same. "I would have been happy to do that. And not out of obligation."

"Dedue." Dimitri narrowed his eyes. "You do know what I am referring to, do you not?"

"I am not nearly that innocent, your highness. I know exactly what you are referring to. The same desire is something I've held within me as well, kept hidden all these years."

Dimitri's face bore an almost comical look of surprise. Despite himself, Dedue had to suppress a laugh, and spoke again: "Do you think you are the only man in the world with your particular affliction, your highness?"

"Dedue - I had no idea-"

"Nor I. It seems we are both fools, your highness."

"None of it matters now, of course," Dimitri said, looking away sharply. "We might have had a handful of happy nights back during school, had we held this discussion then. But in the grand scheme of things, my feelings for you - and yours for me - are petty and irrelevant."

"Luxuries."

Dimitri nodded. "They are luxuries. And in times like these, I do not deserve them."

He reached beneath the water and pulled the plug. The bath began to drain.

"I am at least somewhat cleaner now," Dimitri said. "Hopefully you will be satisfied for a while. Hand me a towel. I am ready to leave."

* * *

It was a good thing Dedue could not sleep that night. If he had drifted off earlier, he would have missed the sound of an intruder.

He lay paralyzed in bed, listening. Someone was making their way along, step by careful step, just outside his chambers. His door was pushed open, and someone entered; they closed the door again with a click.

Dedue sat up, scrabbled for his weapon. Then a voice: "Relax. It is only me."

Dimitri. Dedue exhaled in relief, though his heart was still beating fast. "Pardon me, your highness. You startled me."

"Were you asleep?"

"Not quite. Is something the matter?"

"No," Dimitri said. It was pitch black, but Dedue could tell from the way his bed shifted that Dimitri had sat down on the edge of it.

"Then what brings you here?"

"Every now and then, a strange ghost shows up at my bedside."

Dedue waited, wishing he could see what expression the prince bore - but, even with his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, Dedue could see nothing, not even the outline of Dimitri's body.

"He showed up again tonight," Dimitri went on. "He is beautiful. He has golden hair and blue eyes, and he is a foolish boy, his head full of idle thoughts. He does not know his years of mourning are only beginning. He thinks the world is his to claim."

"Your highness-"

"Tonight, he said nothing," Dimitri said. "But I know this boy well. He doesn't have to say a word for me to understand."

Dedue wondered, for one brief mad moment, if Dimitri was going to kill him. He did not need to do it under cover of night, of course; Dedue would have gladly done the deed himself, had he been asked. He held still, waiting.

"The boy died five years ago," Dimitri said. "He died full of regrets, quests unfinished, answers unfound. Loved ones unavenged. But he still visits me, sometimes. And seeing his face tonight… it reminded me of the past.

"Today reminded me of the past, too. Your hands on me…" Dimitri's voice dropped low, so low it was barely audible, just a deep rumble, thrumming in Dedue's chest. "How that boy wished for that. He was a fool, you know. Such a simple thing would have made him terribly happy."

"Yes," Dedue said, his head spinning. He did not understand, could only blindly follow along. "I… I can imagine."

"But I realized something incredible today, Dedue. That boy - he is not entirely dead. There is, perhaps, a bit of him left in me. Because, for a little while, earlier… I was happy. I was as happy as that boy would have been."

"Your highness…"

Dedue felt the bed shift - Dimitri standing again - and then heard a sound he could not identify, an odd, soft rustling. "Your highness?" Dedue said again, wondering if Dimitri had left. He reached out blindly in the darkness.

"I am here," Dimitri said, and suddenly he was on the bed again, and Dedue was touching him - bare skin, muscles and scars and flesh beneath his hands, Dimitri's body warm and soft and near. Dimitri was in the bed with him. He slid beneath Dedue's blankets so that all that separated them was the thin fabric of the clothing Dedue slept in.

"Touch me," Dimitri said. "So I may remember him. So I may believe he is not dead."

Dedue said nothing - could say nothing; his throat was tight, tears pricking at his eyes. All he could do was obey; he stripped off his own clothing so they lay naked side by side and pulled Dimitri into his arms, shuddering with the pleasure of their skin touching, listening to Dimitri's breaths - oddly frantic at first, but growing deeper and slower with each passing moment. He pulled Dimitri close and pressed his face to his neck, inhaling deeply.

_He is not dead, _Dedue thought to himself. _That boy never died. That boy is the man in my arms._

They were one and the same, had always been one and the same. Dimitri now was Dimitri then. Dedue knew it better than anyone - better even that Dimitri himself.

Dedue held him gently, like something fragile, until he fell asleep; only then did he allow himself to sleep as well. Had there not been a battle the next day he might have stayed up all night listening to the sound of Dimitri's breaths, feeling the blessed weight of him in his arms. But that was a luxury they could not afford in these times.

They were both foolish, Dedue thought - himself and Dimitri both. As he drifted off, he let himself think of the future, even though he knew it was bitter to get one's hopes up so high. Nothing was certain, but maybe someday he could lay with Dimitri - beside him, holding him, it did not matter - and listen to his breaths as long as he liked, and have no battle the following day, no war at all.

Hope was a luxury, too. But this time, Dedue let himself indulge, if only a little. He of all people knew one could not live one's life entirely without luxuries.


End file.
